Don't Think About It
by LivinJgrl123
Summary: You should never push Gaara's buttons. *One-shot*


**Disclaimer – need I say more? I got bored… like… really scary bored. While watching Naruto (I had NO IDEA what shippuden was until five minutes ago and now there are SO MANY EPISODES… and movies...) So this appeared. Warning: possible OOC-ness (only my second Naruto fic… trying to write more to get better, m'kay?) but I tried my best, m'kay? Oh – I finally figured out get the CORRECT spellings of the ninja types! It's called adding it to the dictionary on your Word doc. Thanks for reading ;)**

**BTW: this was totally random XD**

Gaara wasn't just mad. Oh, no – not at _all_ just _mad_. He was _beyond_ furious at this point, and there was nothing Termari and Kankuro could do or say to calm him down – they'd given up on **that** long ago. But they hoped that their redheaded little brother wouldn't _kill_ the jōnin he had locked onto moments ago. The second chūnin exam was about to begin, and they were all waiting outside the "Forest of Death" as the proctor had so fondly put it. What was that jōnin proctor's name again? Oh, yes – Anko Mitarashi. _That_ was the jōnin Gaara was glaring at with every ounce of disdain he possessed.

"Don't kill her," Kankuro warned, his eyes flickering to said proctor, who was shrugging off that weird snake-like lady and stepping away from that weird orange-clad kid, and was now scowling darkly as three kids suddenly called Naruto – that was his name, right? – over to them. The siblings worried that if he glared long enough at the kunoichi, she would burst into flames in a matter of seconds. Gaara was probably hoping for that.

"Yeah, we don't want to get kicked out of the chūnin exams," Temari agreed, a smirk on her face – but she didn't let her guard down. If they let Gaara lose his temper – or even get _close_ to losing his temper – the jōnin might end up dead, and they didn't want that on their heads, especially since almost nothing got to Gaara – except this woman, apparently.

Oh, _great_.

Gaara said nothing, his eyes narrowed, and locked onto Anko, who was now glaring right back at him. When she started coming towards the trio, Temari dropped her smirk and gave her little brother a warning look – which, of course, he ignored easily.

Gaara did not take his eyes off of Anko, not even when she was glaring down at him angrily. She couldn't have been older than what, twenty-something years? She looked fairly young to be one of the elite, and seemed like she could die quite easily by his hand.

Little did he know that Anko was at least – on _some_ level – aware of this, but it wasn't like she was going to back down from some redheaded little _brat_ who'd lived in a _sand box_ all his life.

"You got a problem?" she asked him, ignoring his siblings' looks of warning towards her, which was just fine with Gaara.

He didn't answer her; he merely glared up at her.

"I'm _talking_ to you, little squirt," she hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. He didn't budge, but a muscle in his jaw twitched.

Temari grimaced. The world was going to hell – and these two were going to pull the wagon all the way there, weren't they?

"_Do. You. Have. A problem_?"

Another muscle in his jaw twitched.

The two older siblings exchanged glances.

The jōnin needed to get out of there, before it was too late for her. But they couldn't intervene – Gaara would be mad at _them_ if they even dared to.

And it was bad enough that he was mad at this proctor – he could very well kill her if he so wished. They could hear the sound of sand shifting in his gourd and wondered how long their little brother would last before he lost control – _if_ he lost control. His expression was impassive, as usual, but those eyes of his were cold, hard, and deadly.

Anko seemed to be ignoring this part – or at least acknowledging it and not having a care in the world for her own life.

"You deaf, little brat?" Anko prodded, poking his chest again – and again, he didn't budge. She seemed determined to make him snap. Temari had to take a guess and say that she was trying to see how much restraint he had on his emotions. "You gonna say something or what?"

Another muscle twitched.

Anko glared down at him. She was about to pull back her hand and poke him again, but in a flash her wrist was in his grasp, and she gasped, startled.

Anko hadn't even seen him _move_, and she was certain there was going to be a bruise from how hard he'd grabbed her.

"Hey, what are you – "

"_Gaara_," Temari slapped the redhead on the arm, glaring at him. "Leave the jōnin _alone_."

Gaara was now giving her a death glare, one that made Anko glare back with just as much dislike as he had for her. Sure, so what if she'd called him creepy? Was he _that_ touchy? Was his _ego_ bruised or something? For someone who looked so invincible he must have been incredibly –

"Let _go_ of her," Kankuro warned him, a little more forcefully than Temari had.

Gaara did no such thing for a few long seconds, and eventually, he dropped his hands, releasing hers. Anko stepped back, even though she usually would have given him a righteously-deserved punch in the face – and as much as she wanted to, she knew this boy was trouble.

"Lunatic," she muttered, and turned away, heading towards one of the other groups of students.

Gaara was _beyond_ furious, yes, but he didn't appreciate being called a _lunatic_. He was sane – or at least, Temari and Kankuro let him believe that most of the time.

Gaara watched Anko with eyes that now had murder in them.

"Don't even think about it," Kankuro muttered, rolling his eyes skyward – even though it might cost him an eye.

Gaara turned away from the irritating jōnin, ignoring both his siblings.

Too late. He was already thinking about it.

Anko, on the other hand, was thinking the exact same thing – how dare he think that he could just _do that_ to a **jōnim**?

She wanted to strangle him till he lost that red tint in his hair and his face turned blue.

She tried telling herself "don't even thinking about it" as her eyes scanned the participants in the exams as they all read over their forms.

Too late. She was already thinking about it.


End file.
